


Bath

by orphan_account



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: Inflation, Living Piss, Other, Rape/Non-con Elements, Stomach Bulge, Urethral Play, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-16 04:26:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19638340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: CAUTIONWET FLOOR





	Bath

**Author's Note:**

  * For [heeroluva](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heeroluva/gifts).



“Ah, Master Witcher! Over here!”

Geralt followed the man beckoning him into a dimly lit street corner. The sun’s warmth did not reach down here, obscured by the skewed and poorly planned and built buildings of Novigrad’s poorer districts.

“You post this?” Geralt held up a piece of paper asking for help with ‘one of them blasted sorcerers took my treasure’ and to meet him near the Sunflower, some run-down brothel Geralt wouldn’t set foot in if you paid _him_.

“I did! Damn wizards! He’s been terrorizing the woods around here, with those damn beasts he makes! Took me life savings!”

“What kind of beasts?”

“I dunno, Master Witcher… big. Looked like a rock!”

Geralt groaned internally. A golem, then. How he hated those. Fighting them was an exercise in patience and felt a little like pissing to fill up some bottomless hole. They were big and dangerous and _annoying_.

“If he took your treasure, how are you going to pay me?”

“See, that’s the good thing, Master Witcher! He’s gonna pay you!”

Geralt took the little key that was offered to him. It was an ornate thing, must have been made by dwarves. It glowed and glimmered even though no light was shining on it.

“That guy is rich, he took from so many! But he lost this the last time, it’s the key to his place! Just take whatever you want. We just want to be left in peace, ain’t nobody but you around to help us.”

“You know I am coming back for you if I kill that golem and it turns out that guy doesn’t have anyone of value, right?” Geralt warned the man.

“Oh, you won’t!”

So Geralt went on his way. The directions the man had given certainly weren’t any use. Somewhere in the woods? Big help, that. Eventually, he managed to find golem tracks with his witcher senses. The sorcerer must have concealed them, but got sloppy after a while, thinking no one would follow that deep into the woods.

Soon, Geralt found a door, hidden to anyone who wasn’t looking for it or didn’t know _how_ to look for it. Geralt saw tracks, old and new, leading in and out of the door, both ones that must belong to the wizard and those of his creatures. Sorcerers tended to have the worst zoos inside their hide-outs.

When he stepped inside, Geralt had to cough and cover his nose. It smelled rank in here.

Geralt couldn’t sense anyone down here. Or anything, for that matter. There was just simply no one here. But he had lived and hunted long enough that that could change within seconds, abandoned places could go from empty to brimming with life and unlife the moment they noticed the Witcher had come for something. He drew his sword from his back, to be prepared for anything that might wait for him in here.

“What is that smell?”

Geralt made a face as he stepped in a puddle beneath him. The floor was full of them, it was dripping all over here. That sorcerer needed to conjure up some mops, not golems.

For a moment, he was frozen in place as he felt something creep up his leg, wettening his trousers on its way up. His pupils dilated when he finally noticed what had bothered his nose the moment he had stepped in here.

The smell was _piss_.

With staggering steps, he leaned against a wall. His breath came heavy when the liquid reached his ass and forced itself inside his tight hole, widening, joining together into a thick stream. Geralt grit his teeth and ripped his pants down, trying to find a way to get it off him. But there was nothing he could do. His fingers slipped through it, even though it could form a mace to fuck him with. If he used Igni, he would burn himself. His swords? What good would cutting piss do?

His cock was hardening for this, the pressure against his prostrate immense as more and more of the puddles coiled up around his legs and flowed into him. Geralt pissed himself, and the magic curse on the liquid seemed to take hold immediately. Geralt laughed, almost feeling hysteric at the thought of being fucked by _his own piss_.

“Oh gods,” he moaned as he felt it fill his cock, pressing forward, inside when piss had only left his cock the other way before. During his hunts, he had more than once come across some distasteful bastard who had forced him to take a finger or a rod down his cock, but they never reached so far, filled him so completely. 

Geralt was shaking when the piss reached his balls, bulging out his urethra and testicles alike with the heavy-smelling liquid.

It was all he could do to stay upright as the piss did whatever it wanted with him, filling his ass deeper than any cock had ever gone, moving up his inside until Geralt could feel his stomach bulge out just a little bit. It didn’t leave his emptied bladder in peace, refilling it again only to have Geralt dribble down urine his half-removed pants once more.

Geralt had been pissed in before, willing and unwilling, but this was nothing like it. It was as if the urine was something _living._ Something that knew exactly what to do to break a man in. 

Unwilling as he was, he felt an orgasm build up in him from being used so. His legs gave out beneath him as he shot his load and he staggered forward as the urine suddenly released him. He slipped on the wet floor and landed roughly on the lower floor after falling down the old, slippery steps he hadn’t even noticed were next to him. 

With a splash, he landed in the pool that stood still at the bottom of the stairs. It wasn’t still for long.

Oh, _fuck_. 

The witcher gasped and tried to hold onto the corners of the pool as the urine forced itself inside him.  He thought it had been rough before, but now there was an entire pool full of piss trying to get inside him. 

Geralt fingers curled in the stone floor, trying to find purchase to brace himself. He whimpered as it fucked into him, deeper and further, until his stomach was swelling beneath him. A smaller bump appeared above it, his bladder filled to the point of bursting. 

The sudden pressure made him shoot his load again, before it was simply forced down his cock again by another liquid stream going down his pisshole. 

Geralt had lost count of how many times he had come, how many orgasms the piss had forced out of him in its assault. He must have been down here for hours, but it was still going on. The sorcerer was powerful, having managed to cast some kind of perpetual spell on something near living.

But he had never dealt with Geralt of Rivia trying to pass his security system. He  _would_ get out of here. And once he did, Geralt had a sword with his name on it. 


End file.
